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a year in New York City.
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She could have raised Gershwin himself from the grave with that
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dance, and with the way she sang the song,
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prompted by a colored trumpet player
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playing it like a black torch song.
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There to see, plain as day, was all the power of her whiteness,
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that big, white thing. "Someday he'll come along,
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the man I love, and he'll be big and strong,
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the man I love.'
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The language was ordinary enough to have been lifted from the most
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innocent first-grade primer, but when the record was over,
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Steena put her hands up to hide her face, half meaning,